Oh, Boy! I'm a Wizard!
by HumanTales
Summary: Dr. Sam Beckett leaps into a fifteenyearold English schoolboy.  Harry Potter.  Written for Sycophant Hex's The Sky Is Falling Festival.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Betaed** and Brit-picked by **Rakina.**

Chapter One 

As the feeling of Leaping dissipated, Sam tried to discreetly check out his current situation. He never knew if he would Leap into a bathtub, an electric chair, or something in between.

To his relief, this time it was closer to the bathtub than the electric chair. Then he took a second look at the chessboard and winced; he was less than a dozen moves from checkmate.

His opponent was a tall teenaged boy, with red hair, blue eyes and a ton of freckles. He was grinning at Sam. "Ready to concede?" he asked. His voice gave Sam a shock; the boy spoke with an English accent!

"Not quite yet," Sam answered. There was a risky set of moves he could try. If his opponent realized what he was doing, he'd lose even more quickly, but it was worth a try. He could already tell that this was a friendly game, not a competition. The few youngsters who were watching the game seemed to be doing so because they were tired of studying. From what Sam could see, he was in a school. Possibly a boarding school, but he wasn't entirely certain of that. He started to make the first move, but was startled when the pawn he was about to sacrifice looked up at him and pouted. He glanced up at his opponent, who didn't seem to notice anything odd, and tried to ignore it.

His opponent stared at the board. He muttered, "What are you up to now?" but didn't seem to be expecting Sam to answer. He took several minutes and made a move that told Sam he hadn't seen Sam's strategy.

It took almost an hour, but Sam finally lost. He looked up, wondering how he was supposed to react. Before he could find out, a girl with bushy brown hair stormed into the room and glared at Sam and his opponent. "Ron! Harry! Why aren't you studying? You have more O.W.L.s next week; you can't give up now! And Monday's Potions!"

"Relax, Hermione," the other boy said. "We haven't stopped studying, but we need a break before our brains leak out our ears."

She huffed, but sat down. "How'd you do this time, Harry?"

Sam wasn't sure if he should answer, but the other boy did. "He was amazing," he said. "Came closer to beating me than he ever has. Where'd you come up with that set of moves, mate?"

"Uh, I could just see it. Lucky, I guess." Sam hoped this wasn't too out of character for his host.

Judging from Hermione's reaction, it wasn't. "Don't think you can rely on luck to pass your exams, Harry Potter," she said firmly. "You need that Potions O.W.L. if you're going to become an Auror."

It seemed his name was Harry Potter, which meant that the other boy was Ron. But Potions? Auror? And what kind of test was an O.W.L.? And was there any way of asking without sounding as if he'd just developed amnesia. "Maybe I won't be an Auror," he tried. The kids seemed to be in high school; did English kids decide on their careers that early?

Hermione didn't pay any attention. "It doesn't matter; you still need Potions. Come on; we'll study after dinner."

Sam followed the other two out of the room and down a set of stairs. Before they could get on the second set, it moved! Sam stared at it open-mouthed. Ron noticed his reaction. "What's wrong? This staircase is always a pain; just keep going to the next one."

Trying to hide his reaction to moving staircases, he followed Ron and Hermione until they got to the dining room. He looked around as they walked; the walls were stone, broken up with an occasional tapestry. The floors were stone as well and the windows, what there were of them, were of leaded glass. Sam couldn't put his finger on it, but the building had an air of age about it.

The dining room was huge. There were four long tables standing parallel to one another, slowly filling up with other hungry students and another table standing perpendicular to the others and raised a little. That appeared to be the teacher's table, and that gave Sam his second shock. The teachers seated at the table, and walking up to it, were dressed in outfits that came from books of fairy tales. Noticing that no one else was goggling at them, Sam tried not to stare, but it was very hard.

Sam remembered reading that English boarding school students didn't eat very well; he was expecting a very light meal. To his surprise, it was exactly the opposite: there was enough food on the table that even the teenaged boys could eat their fill. Sam decided that his sudden, intense hunger was from his host; no one seemed to notice anything odd when he filled his plate to overflowing. Ron did the same—three times—and so did most of the other boys around him. The exceptions looked too nervous to be able to eat.

Shortly after the desserts appeared on the table as if by magic, Sam heard the sound he'd been hoping to hear: the Imaging Chamber door. He looked up to see Al gawking at the room. After several minutes of staring at the ceiling—which deserved it, as Sam thought it duplicated the appearance of the sky—Al finally looked for Sam. "I guess the kid was telling the truth," he said. "Sam, we need to talk."

Sam nodded and turned to Ron and Hermione. "I'm going for a walk. I need to clear my head before I start studying. I'll meet you at the dorm." When they nodded, Sam stood and left, looking for the nearest bathroom.

When Sam got into the bathroom and had checked that they were alone, Al was pounding on the handlink. "I hate meeting in bathrooms," he complained. "OK. Your name is Harry Potter, you're six weeks away from your sixteenth birthday, you're right outside Hogsmeade in Scotland, and you're a fifth-year student at Hogwarts School, not St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"What?" He could usually understand Al's sense of humor, even when he didn't share it.

"That's where Ziggy says the kid goes to school. He says he goes to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; from the little bit I've seen, I believe the kid."

Sam shook his head. It was going to be one of those Leaps. "Why am I here?"

Al glared at the handlink. "We don't have a lot of information on the kid; once he starts secondary school, he mostly drops off the map. We're trying to get more information, but the kid isn't cooperating and Ziggy hasn't figured out where to get it. For now," he sighed, "Sam, I think you're here to make sure the kid makes it to eighteen."

"He's dead?" Sam asked. The image in the mirror was a thin, pale teenager with messy, black hair and almond-shaped green eyes behind round glasses, and Sam had already decided he liked the boy's friends. "How did he die?"

Al shook his head. "We don't know. All the obituary says is that he died." Still scowling at the handlink, he said, "We do know that he dies on June 24, 1998, just over a month before his eighteenth birthday."

There was something wrong with the dates, or the ages. "What's the date?"

"It's June 19, 1996," Al answered. "As best as we can figure, something that's about to happen will change whether the kid lives or dies, but it doesn't actually happen for another two years."

"But we don't have any idea what that is," Sam said. "And magic is real?" Occam's Razor made it the best answer, even if it didn't make any sense.

"The kid pulled the handlink out of my hand from across the room," Al answered. "He said he could do more if he had his wand; is it on you?"

Sam checked the pockets of his robe and found a stick, almost a foot long. "I guess I do." He waved the wand and said, "Abracadabra." To his shock, red and gold sparks flew out of the wand. "Oh, boy!"

Al looked as if he were slowly taking this in stride; he was certainly less stunned than Sam was. "Put something on the sink and step away from it."

Sam went through his pockets and came up with a gold coin, which he set down on the sink. Stepping about ten feet away, he asked, "Now what?"

"Point at it, with the wand," he said when Sam used his finger to point, "and say, uh, _'Accio_ coin'. And mean it."

Sam looked over at Al. He felt silly, but he followed Al's instructions. When the coin flew into his hand, he stared at Al, feeling a little panicky. "What do I do now?'

"Learn magic," Al said practically. "I'm going back to the Waiting Room and have a nice long chat with Harry. I suggest you study magic." Shaking his head, he smiled. "You have all the luck." Sam rolled his eyes and headed back to the dorms.

It took him longer than it should have; Sam wasn't used to staircases that moved, paintings that talked to him and, once, he saw a ghost. He ducked out of the way of that one; Sam was a man of science and talking to people who . . . _weren't _anymore was more than he could sanely handle. When he finally made his way back to the dorms, he found himself stuck. There was a portrait guarding the entrance to the dorms, and she wouldn't let Sam in without the password! Fortunately, Neville, one of the boys who appeared to share Harry's bedroom, came along and gave him the password with only mild surprise.

Once back in the dormitory he settled down to study his Potions text. Sam had been half expecting it to be written in Middle English, Latin, or some bastardized combination of the two, but it didn't look that different from the chemistry texts he remembered from high school. It even had drawings to explain the difference between "powdered", "ground", and "finely ground". Once he got used to the strange ingredients and the stranger expected effects, he found that it wasn't that much different from studying chemistry.

He did find himself wishing that Harry was a better student. He would underline terms in his book for no apparent reason and his notes were a disaster. Although he would copy down the instructions from the board, Sam found it hard to read them through the written arguments and games of Hangman Harry seemed to have with Ron, the doodles and the complaints about Snape. Snape was apparently the Potions instructor; Sam thought he knew which one he was from Harry's "Greasy Git" and "Great Bat" comments. One of the male teachers had limp hair, a large nose and a sallow complexion; Sam hoped that the resemblance to a vampire was coincidental.

Studying was considerably easier when Hermione finished her Prefect's rounds and returned to the dorm. Her notes were perfect. Sam thought someone needed to have a talk with her; they were too perfect, and she seemed a little more high-strung than she needed to be. It was clear that she was a good student with exemplary grades. She also seemed used to Harry and Ron begging her for study help and was generous with her help; she only made them grovel a little bit.

They had been working for several hours, and Sam was ready to suggest a break, when he heard the Imaging Chamber door open. He glanced over to see Al, then looked again. Earlier, Al had been wearing his favorite purple tie with the matching purple suit; he'd looked relaxed with a cigar in his hand. Now, he was in his dress whites, wearing every ribbon and medal he was entitled to, and no cigar in sight. He jerked his head to the door. "C'mon, Sam. Tell your buddies you're going to take a quick walk; you've got enough time before curfew. It's gotta be alone, though."

It took Sam a few minutes to get out without Ron or Hermione. They both seemed to think Harry was looking for trouble: Ron wanted to join in and Hermione wanted to keep him out of it. When he finally managed it, Al led him to an unused classroom. "What's with the uniform?"

"Kid didn't believe I was a real admiral," Al said, grinning. "Said no admiral would wear a suit that would glow in the dark." Sam grinned back; Al's earlier suit had been subdued for the man. "So, I pulled this out to show him and started barking orders at him." His grin softened into a distant smile. "He's a good kid, Sam, who hasn't been given a break. We've got to help him."

"So far, the only thing I know about him is that he's not such a good student, but he's smart enough to make friends with one of the best," Sam said.

"Hermione Granger?" Al asked. When Sam nodded, Al grinned. "Yeah, Harry says she helps him and Ron Weasley with their schoolwork and they keep her from going too nuts with the studying."

Sam grinned; he was glad to hear that Harry and Ron tried to pay Hermione back for her help. "Do we know anything more?"

"Ziggy still hasn't been able to get any more information on the kid, but I got a lot of background, and you're going to need it." Al's expression had turned grim. "They're in the middle of a war, here. It's between groups of magical people; so far they've kept it away from people like us — Muggles, they call us. Anyway, when he was a baby, the leader of the other side, a madman who calls himself Lord Voldemort, killed his parents and tried to kill him. The kid's the only person known to have survived the Killing Curse; it bounced back on Voldie and, well, Harry's not real sure what it did, but he was out of commission until just last year." Al shook his head, his eyes sad. "The government, the magical one, won't believe that Voldie's back, so the kid's taken a lot of heat for it. When they finally admit it, Harry thinks everyone's going to expect him to take care of the bastard. He's not sure, but he thinks Dumbledore, the leader of his side, has been training him for it since he was a kid."

Sam stared at Al open-mouthed. "I can't …"

"Relax. Ziggy thinks, and for once I agree with her, that the final confrontation isn't for two years; we think that's how the kid dies. There's something going on now and I've got a guess as to what it is."

Sam waited for Al to go on. He could tell that Al liked Harry; he suspected that Al could see something of himself in the boy. After a moment, Al continued, "Because of what happened the kid has a connection with this Voldemort nozzle, a mental connection." When Sam looked surprised, Al glared. "If magic is real, that should be nothing. Anyway, he gets visions of whatever the creep is doing, or dreaming, or thinking about. He's a little vague on the details. Once the adults on his side—they call themselves the Order of the Phoenix—realized it was happening, they set up lessons to teach him how to block others out of his mind."

Al shook his head. "Of course, the person they picked to do this is someone who hates the kid because he hated the kid's dad and Harry looks just like his dad. And as far as I can figure out, no one's really explained why it's a good idea to be able to block off his mind. The time when the adults found out about it was when he saw Ron's dad being bitten by Voldemort's pet snake and giving the alarm saved the man's life. I'm going to work on that; I have the background to explain security to the kid, and I think I can get him to listen to me."

"Do you think this is one of those Leaps where it's you who needs to make the changes?" Sam asked. It didn't happen often, but it wouldn't be the first time.

"I think this one needs us both," Al said. "I told you; the nozzle who's supposed to be teaching the kid Occlumency—that's what they call it—hates the kid, and he returns the favor. Before he starts these lessons, he pulls memories out of his head." Al grinned at Sam's expression. "Yeah, they can do that; you should hear Ziggy. Anyway, he stores them in this thing called a Pensieve and, during the last lesson he gets called out of his office and leaves Harry there. And Harry couldn't be any more curious, so he takes a peek. He thought Snape was storing stuff the Order didn't want Harry to know, but the memory Harry saw was of Snape getting bullied by Harry's dad and his buddies when they were all in school. When Snape saw what Harry'd done, he lost it and threw Harry out. Harry won't go back, and Snape doesn't seem willing to go after him to insist."

"So, you convince Harry that he actually does need these lessons, even if they're from Snape," Sam said, "and I go to Snape, apologize, and beg him to teach me again."

Al nodded. "Bingo. If he gives you trouble, mention how disappointed Dumbledore would be if he didn't. From what Harry's said, Dumbledore's about the only person Snape'll listen to."

Sam nodded. "Any reason I should wait?"

"Nope. The sooner you get it done the better, I'd say," Al said. "His office is in the dungeons."

"The dungeons," Sam said. He didn't know why he was surprised; dungeons fit right in with talking paintings. He headed towards the dungeons, walking quickly.

It took him three tries to find Snape's office. Fortunately, the man was there. Sam knocked on the door. When Snape looked up, he straightened up and said, as respectfully as he could, "Excuse me, Professor Snape, may I have a moment of your time?"

Snape sneered, but waved Sam in and closed the door. He didn't say anything; just stared at Sam.

Sam said, "I'm sorry for looking in your Pensieve. I shouldn't have done it. If I could, I'd apologize for what my dad did to you, but …"

The longer Sam talked, the angrier Snape looked. By the time Sam had trailed off, there were patches of bright red on his cheeks. "Do you really think I'll forgive you if you apologize, Potter?" he said, almost spitting. "Who put you up to this?"

Sam shook his head. He suspected that Snape's anger was why Harry hadn't apologized. "No, sir. I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do. What I did was wrong."

"When does a Potter admit that he did anything wrong unless he's forced to it," Snape said, his voice sounding bitter. "How do I know you're even Potter?" He smirked. "How do I know you're not Granger under Polyjuice, hm? And you'd believe there's no way of seeing through that, wouldn't you?" He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Sam, speaking a long incantation.

It happened too quickly for Sam to react. By the time he reacted, Snape was staring at Sam in horror and Al was shouting, "Get out of here, Sam!" Snape saw Sam's almost instinctive glance at Al and he pointed his wand toward Al, speaking a second incantation. Sam saw Al begin to glow.

Hoping to salvage something, and hoping he wasn't condemning Harry to an even earlier death, Sam dove for Snape, grabbing for the other man's wand. He'd assumed that Snape wouldn't be expert at hand-to-hand fighting; from what he had seen so far, everyone here used magic for everything. Snape avoided him easily and, before Sam could dodge, pointed his wand at Sam and shouted, "_Stupefy!_"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

When Sam woke up, the first thing he saw was Al, looking furious. Looking around, Sam decided that, yes, he was in big trouble this time.

He was no longer in Snape's dungeon office. He appeared to be in a kitchen—one with no windows. He was tied to a chair and, in addition to Snape, who was still pointing his wand at Sam, there were two other men and a young woman looking at him. He looked around. "What happens next?" he asked, really hoping the answer wouldn't be, "Now, we have to kill you."

"We're waiting for Professor Dumbledore," one of the other men said. He was about the same age as Snape and the other man, with graying brown hair and shabby, well-patched robes. The other man had been handsome once, with black hair and gray eyes. The young woman had pink hair and a pretty, heart-shaped face. None of them were smiling.

"They can't hear me right now," Al said to Sam.

Before he could say anything more, the man who'd spoken before looked up at Al. "I don't think the others can see or hear you right now," the unnamed man and the woman both shook their heads while Snape sneered, "but I certainly can. And I should warn you, there are wards up all over this room to keep ghosts and poltergeists in it; you won't be leaving."

Al and Sam exchanged a look. Sam didn't think they were right. He hoped not. Deciding that it didn't matter, he didn't care if the others knew what Al wanted to tell him, he asked, "What happened?"

"After Snape knocked you out," Al answered, still looking angry, "he did something that brought you here. He yelled for Black, that's him," he pointed at the man who hadn't said anything yet, "and they tied you to the chair. Lupin, that's the other man, and Tonks, that's the woman, were here and helped. Then Snape cast another spell at you that woke you up. Sam, they're really angry; I think Black, Lupin and Tonks all really like Harry."

"We do," Lupin said, "and you had better hope that you can return Harry to us undamaged and quickly."

Before he could say any more, there was a sound in the other room. A moment later, a tall man with a long, white beard and bright blue eyes behind half-moon glasses walked in. "I see what you mean, Severus. It's quite the enchantment. I find the placement of the one bit of white hair especially interesting."

Sam looked at Al, hoping he could answer the question. "Harry has a lightning-bolt shaped scar right where you have that tuft of white hair. He mentions it every time he looks in a mirror."

"Then you know where Harry is," Lupin said. At everyone's puzzled look, he repeated what Al had said.

"Hm, Severus, you said you had revealed this other person? Could you do so again? I think it would be easier if you did so."

Snape repeated the spell so that Al glowed bright blue again. The old man looked at Al, seeming to focus on his ribbons for several moments before he spoke again. "Admiral, I'm afraid I don't know your name, but I find it very difficult to believe that any man with the accolades you've received would be working against us. Especially one who has been kept as a prisoner of war, as you have been. Incidentally, I am Albus Dumbledore. This is Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Auror Nymphadora Tonks, and I believe you know Professor Severus Snape. Might we know your names?" His voice was pleasant, almost conversational, but there was a hint of steel underneath it.

Al looked impressed; Sam suspected it was Dumbledore's ability to read Al's uniform. Still, his voice was hard when he said, "Sam, name, rank and serial number. Nothing else. Dumbledore, you and yours are at war and, as long as you're holding my friend, I consider him a prisoner of war. And he's no more likely to break than I was."

"Headmaster," Snape began, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"The problem, Admiral, is that you have one of ours, Harry Potter, and we don't know what shape he is in, or even if he's still alive. If you could provide us believable assurances that he's well, we might be able to negotiate. Otherwise, there are ways of making a man talk that don't involve torture." He gave Snape a pleasant but firm look and then turned it on Black when he growled.

Al nodded. "Yeah, I thought we were going that direction. Gooshie, do you have the Imaging Chamber set up yet?" He listened for a minute, and shook his head. "Did you explain what we're going to do to him? Good. Do I have to go out?" He nodded again. "I'll be right back."

The Imaging Chamber door opened and Al walked out of it. Sam was relieved, but the others were in an uproar. Dumbledore raised his hand for quiet, which he got almost immediately. "What just happened?"

"I'm not sure, but I think you're about to see Harry," Sam said, hoping he was right.

A minute later, the Imaging Chamber door opened again and Al walked back in. "Ask your questions," he said. Since he wasn't glowing, Sam was pretty sure that only he and Lupin could see Al.

"Al, I can't see him. And I think the spell needs to be recast."

While Al shook his head and rolled his eyes, Snape cast the spell that lit Al so that the others could see him. Once Snape was done, he put his hand down on what was apparently Harry's shoulder. Harry came into view. He looked around the room in interest, a wide grin on his face, and said, "Wicked! H'lo everybody."

Black ran over to Harry, his arms wide, and found himself suddenly embracing himself when his arms went right through the hologram. He looked angry as he said, "Harry, where are you?"

"I'm somewhere in the United States," Harry said. "I'm not really here; neither's Al. We're, erm, we're in the future. This is Admiral Al Calavicci and that's Dr. Samuel Beckett." He looked uncomfortable, and then blurted out, "I didn't do anything this time! I was in the common room playing chess."

Lupin looked at Sam with a puzzled expression. "The playwright? What's going on?"

Sam looked over at Al. This sounded vaguely familiar, but he wasn't sure what that would mean.

Al said, "No, you don't write plays, too." Turning to the others, he said, "Sam's not related to the playwright; the name's a coincidence. Sam's a quantum physicist."

Dumbledore looked as if Al had explained a great deal. "Of course. I read about you not too long ago, Dr. Beckett. I always enjoy reading about the Nobel laureates; you belong to a fascinating fraternity. And thank you, Harry; I thought Admiral Calavicci looked familiar. I've followed your exploits, the ones that have made the newspapers here in Britain anyway, with a great deal of delight, Admiral. That doesn't explain Dr. Beckett's presence here, and looking just like Harry. Nor Harry's absence. I'm afraid that we truly do need that explanation." Dumbledore was smiling, his blue eyes bright, but he didn't look as if he would accept anything less than a full explanation.

Sam sighed, but before he could say anything, Al said, "I'll tell you as much as we know, as soon as you untie Sam."

Black and Snape began to argue. Although Sam was sure they'd claim they were debating the pluses and minuses of the situation, it sounded to him like they would argue over anything and everything. While their argument raged, Dumbledore winked at Lupin and Tonks, and waved his wand with a "_Finite Incantatem_". The ropes holding Sam to the chair fell away. Sam stood and stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his muscles.

When Black and Snape didn't stop arguing, seeming oblivious to Sam's freedom, Al shouted, "You two, shut up and sit down!" The years of command meant that the other two men had obeyed before they'd stopped to think about it. They both looked furious, but stayed put.

Dumbledore looked amused. "Apparently admirals get more immediate obedience than simple headmasters."

Black snorted. "As if you've ever been a simple headmaster. We're quiet; let's have that explanation."

"I'll do the explaining," Al said before Sam could start. "Sam developed a string theory of time." He pulled out a piece of string but, as soon as he took his hand off of Harry's shoulders, Harry disappeared. Before anyone could say anything, he said, "Hang onto me for a minute, kid; I need both hands for this." Harry appeared again almost immediately, his hand on Al's arm. Suiting actions to words, Al continued, "One end is your birth; the other your death. Tie the ends together and ball it up and every moment of your life touches every other out of order. Sam theorized that you could travel in time within your own lifetime. He put together this project to prove his theory."

"He intended on, what, borrowing other people?" Black didn't look very happy at that.

"No," Al said. "The first time he Leaped, it was too soon. We weren't ready and things went a little ka-ka. Instead of just observing the past, he has to change it. We're not sure how, but something else—God, Fate, Time, Whatever—is Leaping him now. When he Leaps somewhere, he has to put right what once went wrong before he Leaps." Al shrugged. "I don't understand it. When Sam gets home someday, I'm hoping he'll be able to figure it out."

"How long have you been doing this?" Sam couldn't read Dumbledore's expression. It seemed to be made up of horror and approval.

Al sighed. "Too long. Years. Too many years." Sam closed his eyes; it had been a very long time since he'd been home. He sometimes wondered if he'd ever make it back.

"Gryffindor," Snape said with a sneer.

The others laughed. "And of the best sort, I'd say," said Lupin, looking more relaxed.

"Just so," said Dumbledore. "What must you do here?"

Sam and Al exchanged looks. They weren't going to tell Harry their theory, but they couldn't get too far from the truth either. Before either of them could say anything, Snape said, "You can't mean that you think Potter needs to apologize to me! How important could that be?"

Harry's cheeks had turned bright red, but he looked at Snape with his head held high. "I hate to admit that I haven't, but both Al and Dr. Beckett are right; you deserve an apology from me." He glanced at Lupin and Black, but didn't say anything to them. "I shouldn't have looked into your Pensieve; I just wanted to know what that room is. I'm sorry." He looked ready to start running at any second, but at least he looked sincere.

Snape's cheeks had gained a little color. "Apology accepted. If I were going to remove those memories, I'd put them somewhere much more secure than where a curious brat could get his hands on them."

Harry looked shocked. "You wanted me to see that memory!"

Snape shrugged. "No, but it was safer than preventing you from searching farther for the one you want. We're keeping it from you for a reason."

Al's handlink squawked. Al looked down at it and crowed, "That's done it, Sam. Percentage of, well, you know what, is down to 4.8 percent. Get ready to Leap!" When Sam clearly wasn't about to Leap, Al sagged. "I thought that was it. I'll put Ziggy back on it. I wish we could get hold of more records."

Tonks asked, "What do you mean?"

"Ziggy can't get any of the records on the kid while he's at Hogwarts, or on any of you. It's making things harder than usual."

"Ziggy's a computer," Harry said, stopping several people from asking questions. "She can only get records that are on a computer, or that can be scanned in. That's putting regular paper records through a thing that turns them into, well, whatever it is that Ziggy uses."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful, but stayed quiet. After a moment, he said, "Harry, are you comfortable? Do you have enough to eat? Are you warm enough? Is there anything you need?"

Harry grinned. "Mrs. Calavicci and Mrs. Weasley ought to exchange recipes; they're both great cooks." That got a laugh from everyone but Snape. "The temperature here gets a little, erm, unpredictable sometimes, but they'll get me whatever I need to be comfortable. And I don't think I could do much better than have a Nobel Prize winner with six doctorates taking my O.W.L.S." That got another laugh. For a minute, Sam thought even Snape would join in, but he got his face under control.

Dumbledore didn't even try not to laugh. "An embarrassment of riches indeed. When you've returned home, I'll have to arrange to have you retake whatever exams you've missed. Fortunately for Dr. Beckett, the only practical exams you have left are Potions and Astronomy, and I don't think he'll have too much difficulty with those. Very well. Severus, can you get Dr. Beckett back to the school without Dolores finding out about it?"

Snape nodded. "Fortunately, she leaves me alone most of the time." He seemed to think of something. "Beckett, if Dolores Umbridge, the current headmistress," the last word was spat out in distaste, "offers you something to drink, don't. She might decide to find an alternate source of Veritaserum."

Sam considered the word. "Truth serum?"

When Snape nodded, Al shuddered. "That stuff's scary." He got several puzzled looks. "There's Sam, supposedly an old geezer that everybody thinks is a little crazy, and he's giving truthful answers under sodium pentothal. Truthful answers for Sam Beckett." He shuddered again. "Not good."

Snape sneered, "Then he'd be well advised to stay away from her."

The meeting broke up shortly afterwards. Snape pulled a torn book from his robe and told Sam to grab it. It felt as if a hook grabbed Sam behind his navel; a few minutes later, he fell onto the floor of Snape's office. Snape sent him back to his dormitory, but warned him that he'd have to be careful not to be caught. It was after curfew and he didn't want to earn Harry yet another detention. Sam made it back to the dormitory with no further problems.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three 

The next two days were quiet; Sam studied the materials for Harry's second week of exams. He had Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, Divination, and History of Magic. At least Sam didn't have to do more than glance at the Astronomy text, but he actually had to learn the rest of the material. It was a familiar feeling, and an enjoyable one. Al would pop in and tell him Ziggy's latest guess, but without any real data they really were just guesses. From what Al said, while Sam concentrated on studying, Al was explaining security and "need to know" to Harry. He also seemed to be telling Harry stories about his life; Sam had the feeling that Al looked at Harry as someone he'd like to mentor.

The quiet continued through the exams. Sam was beginning to wonder if this Leap weren't to give him a break, one in an environment that he'd always found comfortable: school. Ron and Hermione were both giving him funny looks; he was spending more time studying than even Hermione managed. He couldn't bear to cut back; Harry might be an indifferent student, but he was enjoying the material. Goblin rebellions, thestrals, Draught of Living Death—it was all new material, and Sam was having a blast!

He knew the peace wouldn't last forever and he was right. The calm broke Wednesday night, during the Astronomy practical. Al was watching Sam happily filling in his star chart when, over an hour into the exam, he heard a distant knock, followed by muffled barking. It appeared that Hagrid, the massively large man who taught Care of Magical Creatures, had company. Blocking out the distraction, Sam went back to work.

After several minutes, a roar came from Hagrid's cabin. Sam, along with several other people, tried to see what was going on. Professor Tofty, one of the proctors, said, "Try and concentrate, now, boys and girls." Sam went back to work again.

Then, there was a loud _BANG_ from the grounds. Hagrid had burst out of his cabin and was being fired upon by the six people Sam had seen earlier; however, the spells seemed to bounce right off of him. When Hagrid's dog was hit by one spell, and fell to the ground, Hagrid picked the man who'd hit his dog off the ground and threw him. The man flew for what looked to be ten feet or so and didn't get up.

Meanwhile, back on the Tower, none of the students were paying attention to their exams any more. They were watching the fight.

Someone, an adult, came out of the castle and moved toward the fight. "How dare you!" Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration Professor, shouted. "How _dare_ you Leave him alone! _Alone_, I say! On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such—"

Four of the combatants fired red spells at her. For a moment, she looked luminous, and then she was lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back and stopped moving.

Several of the girls in the Tower screamed, while even Professor Tofty seemed to have forgotten the exam.

"COWARDS!" Hagrid bellowed. "RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT—AN' THAT--!" He took two swipes at his closest attackers and appeared to have knocked them out. He doubled over and, a moment later, stood with what Sam realized was his dog draped over his shoulders. He turned and began to run toward the distant gates, with Professor Umbridge, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, acting headmistress and, as Al would describe her, all-around nozzle, in pursuit.

After a long moment of silence, Professor Tofty said, "Um . . . five minutes to go, everybody . . ." Al gave Sam a significant look and walked out of the Imaging Chamber.

Sam was grateful that he'd been almost finished; there was no way he could concentrate on finishing the star chart now. Everyone else seemed to be in the same boat; as soon as Professor Tofty called the end of the exam, they all stored their telescopes quickly and went back to the dorms, talking excitedly all the while. Just as they got to the dorms, Al walked in and jerked his head. Once he got into the bathroom, Sam locked the door and looked at Al.

"What happened? And what should I have been doing?" he demanded of Al.

Al shrugged, looking frustrated. "We don't know. Ziggy's still trying to get records, but the Ministry of Magic people won't even admit they exist, much less their records, much less let us have them. What looks like happened is that Umbridge bitch." For once, Sam had no intention of scolding Al for his language, although it was rather unkind to the dogs. "She hates part-humans, Hagrid's half-giant, and she's probably been trying to get him fired for months. More than that, we just don't know."

Sam sighed with frustration and returned to the dorm. Everyone was talking about what had happened, and they were all worried about Professor McGonagall. It was after four before Sam finally got to bed. He slept badly and woke three hours later, feeling the lack of sleep, but spent the morning as he'd planned, going over notes one last time.

The exam started at two, with Professor Marchbanks as the proctor. The exam was hard, not because the material was so difficult, but because the names and dates kept blurring together. The room was warm and stuffy, and the highlights from Parvati Patil's hair in front of him kept mesmerizing him. As the other students wrote and wrote, Sam closed his eyes to try to see the notes he'd just read . . .

He was walking along a cool, dark corridor again, walking with a firm and purposeful stride, sometimes breaking into a run. Somehow, he knew that he was in the lower levels of the Department of Mysteries, and that he'd been here before. A black door swung open for him and he was in a circular room with many doors.

Straight across the stone floor and through the second door . . . patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but there was no time to explore, he had a terrible sense of urgency . . .

He jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just as the others had . . .

He was in a cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres . . . When he reached number ninety-seven, he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows . . .

There was a shape on the floor at the very end, a dark shape moving as if it were hurt . . . Sam's stomach contracted with fear and excitement . . .

A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness. "Take it for me . . . Lift it down, now . . . I cannot touch it . . . but you can . . ."

The shape upon the floor shifted. Sam saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise on the end of his own arm . . . heard the high, cold voice say, "_Crucio!_"

The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Sam was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted, and the figure groaned and became motionless.

"Lord Voldemort is waiting . . ."

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid in defiance . . .

"You'll have to kill me," whispered Sirius Black.

"Undoubtedly I shall in the end," said the cold voice. "But you will fetch it for me first, Black . . . You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again . . . We have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream . . ."

But somebody did scream as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk onto the cold stone floor. Sam hit the ground and woke, still yelling, his head on fire, as the Great Hall erupted around him.

It took Sam a while to convince Professor Tofty that he was all right, that he'd essentially finished the exam and that he just needed to be left alone to calm himself down. Fortunately for his nerves, Professor Tofty was mostly taking Sam at his word and left him alone without too much trouble.

Once the proctor was gone, Sam ran for the infirmary, where they'd taken Professor McGonagall. Al had mentioned that Harry had visions; Sam suspected that they'd exchanged enough of their minds that now Sam was getting the visions. It didn't answer the question of why Harry wasn't trying harder to stop them—they hurt!—but Sam would worry about that later. For now, he needed to speak with a member of the Order that could check on Black.

Sam was halfway to the infirmary when he heard the sound of the Imaging Chamber door. He was surprised when he heard Al say, "Hey, calm down!"

He stopped, checking quickly for other students. Fortunately, they all seemed to be in classes. "Al, Black, he's being tortured, I have to help him . . ."

"No, you don't," Al said quietly. His expression was sad. "That's what happened the first time around." Before Sam could ask, Al said, "We finally got the records. One big data dump—Ziggy's still trying to sort through everything—but here's what we know." He glanced down at his handlink. "Harry got a vision of Sirius, his godfather, being tortured. He couldn't get hold of anybody—didn't think of Snape until it was too late—and took off for the Ministry. Except it was all a setup. Voldemort had planted the vision in his head—one of the reasons the kid was supposed to be blocking him out—and Harry believed it."

Al shook his head. "In a lot of ways, it worked to the Order's advantage. The government had to admit that Voldemort was back and they put a bunch of his Death Eaters in jail. Unfortunately, Black was killed."

"So, we need to get there," Sam said, "to save him."

"No!" Al shouted. "You're not listening! Black isn't being tortured. He's at Grimmauld Place, treating an injured hippo . . ." Al looked at the handlink and hit it. "Hippogriff. This place is so weird. He dies trying to get Harry and his buddies away from the Death Eaters. Stupid death, too; he falls through . . ." Al glared at the handlink. "He falls through a veil? Whatever. If you go to the Ministry, we'll just be repeating history. Stay put!"

Sam thought about it, but he couldn't stand relying on records. Sometimes, they were wrong. "Can you check on him?"

Al nodded. "That I can do. Gooshie, center me on Sirius Black." He disappeared. Five minutes later, he reappeared. "He's fine. He's sitting in a bedroom treating the hippogriff, just like I told you. And am I glad I'm not there. Wow!"

Sam took several deep breaths until he was able to calm down. "Shouldn't I still be trying to rescue him? Harry wouldn't know that Black was all right, would he?"

"Why?" Al shrugged. "So he didn't take the bait. Or he decided he couldn't get enough help, so he didn't go. Nothing says the kid can't start thinking straight." Realizing that Sam still felt he should be doing something, he asked, "Where were you going?"

"To talk with McGonagall," Sam said. "She's a member of the Order; she'd be able to contact him."

"Good idea," Al said, looking at the handlink. Then he shook his head, "But it won't work. She's not a kid any more; they took her to the hospital because of all those Stunning Spells. She won't be back for days. What about Snape?"

"Of course," Sam said. He turned around and started making his way to the dungeons. Halfway there, the staircase he was on decided to go somewhere else. He spent the rest of the trip explaining the moving staircases to Al. It would have been better if he'd understood how they worked.

Once there, Sam started pounding on the door to Snape's office. The door opened abruptly, almost dumping Sam on the floor. "Excuse me, sir," he said, as politely as he could manage, "but I need for you to contact—"

"Not in the hall!" Al yelled at him as Snape grabbed his arm and yanked him into his office.

"Beckett or Potter?" Snape asked once he'd closed the door and cast several spells at it.

"Beckett," Sam answered. "Can I talk now?" When Snape nodded, Sam said, "You have to contact Headquarters. Voldemort sent Harry a vision that I got, don't ask me how, that he's torturing Sirius Black in the Department of Mysteries. Al says he's fine at Headquarters, but Harry wouldn't know that and would go after him. So, I have to unless I'm sure he's all right. Can you?"

Snape looked at him intently for several minutes. When he spoke, it was reluctant. "Admiral Calavicci has confirmed that Black is at Headquarters?"

Sam nodded as Al said, "He's taking care of Buckbeak," which Sam repeated.

Snape rolled his eyes. "How wonderful. We have a problem. Fortunately, whatever force is moving you around has seen fit to leave you here for the moment. I wouldn't fancy trying to explain this to Potter."

Moving to sit behind his desk, Snape gestured that Sam should sit in the student's desk before him. Tracing his lips with his finger, he said, "Are you aware that I am the Order's spy?"

Sam nodded, although he hadn't been certain of it. Al said, "Yeah, regular James Bond you are."

A bit of red came into Snape's cheeks when Sam repeated the comment. Looking a little embarrassed he said, "I will deny this if you ever tell anyone else, but . . . I loved those movies, and the books. I always wanted to be 007. License to kill," he said, with a sneer. "Childishness."

After remaining silent for a moment, he shook his head. "I have not been told his plans, but I have been advised to facilitate Potter's rush to the Ministry. I wasn't told how he was to be lured there, but I assume this is it. I somehow doubt you were careful not to be seen coming down here. So, I should be encouraging you to go, most likely by telling you to stay put no matter what."

Al spoke up. "Too bad no one at Headquarters can see me. He could send you as Harry to the Ministry using reverse psychology and I could sound the alarm." Sam repeated the comment.

Snape's eyes widened for a moment, then he smiled slyly. "Lupin can see him," he said. "One of the few advantages of having a werewolf in the Order. I believe he's at Headquarters and, if he isn't, I could send him there. The question to answer is how would you get there."

"Werewolves are real!" Sam shouted, while Al groaned, "No wonder he can see me."

"Yes," Snape said, looking sour, "all too real. You should try meeting up with one at the full moon, an experience I don't recommend. It does work to our advantage, so we might as well use it." Ignoring Sam, he got up and began pacing around the room, muttering. After a moment, he looked at Sam. "Potter appears to have an affinity with dangerous beasts, especially those Hagrid has introduced to him. Do you share it?"

Sam shrugged. "I do all right with animals," he said, "but I haven't had much exposure here. What dangerous animal are we talking about?" Sam was braced for something terrifying—like dragons.

"Before I answer that, can you ride a horse?" When Sam nodded, Snape continued, "Have you heard of thestrals?"

Sam nodded again, thinking of what he'd read of the creatures. They weren't the most frightening choice he could have been given. "How do I find them?"

"There is a herd of them living on the grounds. They're attracted to blood; bloody meat should work well. You can get that from the house-elves."

Sighing, Sam asked, "How do I get to the house-elves? And why would they give me anything?"

Snape started to answer, but got a considering look on his face. "The question will be whether or not they will see you as Potter. If they do, it will be simple; house-elves generally like him. You'd ask for—," he closed his eyes for a moment thinking. "I believe his name is Dobby. However, it's quite possible that they would see you as yourself, which is likely to cause problems."

Sam could feel the clock ticking. Black might not be in danger, but if he didn't move quickly enough, Snape would be. "I'll figure something out. To make this look real, I guess you should throw me out of your office and yell at me. Or I'll yell at you. Don't take too many points."

To Sam's surprise, Snape threw back his head and laughed. It was the first time Sam had seen him do anything that wasn't either coldly considered or in a temper. He realized with a shock that Snape couldn't be older than his late thirties, and he might be even younger than that. He resolved to ask Al what happened to Snape; he deserved a chance to live that wasn't as a spy.

Shaking his head, Snape said, "I wish you could stay. It's so much easier plotting with an adult who understands the purpose of cover."

Al grinned. "Tell him I'm working on it. And tell him that they should just tell him what's up; Harry understands duty."

Sam considered and repeated what Al had said. Snape nodded, sneering again. "Even I will grant that that idiot brat understands, and lives, duty. There's been more than once when it would have been easier if he didn't." Then he smirked. "I suspect Calavicci could say the same about you."

Sam didn't repeat Al's answering, "You betcha!", but he suspected Snape knew anyway.

He braced himself and nodded at the Potions teacher, who removed the spells and opened the door in one swift movement, yelling, "Get out of my office, Potter, before I take you to the Headmistress! Go! Now!" To punctuate the last scream, he picked up a jar of something nasty-looking and threw it at Sam.

Sam screamed in pretended fury, "It's just like you to betray Dumbledore! Think of all he's done for you!" The next jar was better aimed than the first. Sam decided they'd given Snape's cover enough validation and ran off.

**Author's Note:** There are several scenes in this chapter that are taken with little to no changes from _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ by J.K. Rowling. American edition.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four 

He'd made it to the Great Hall, and was heading for the doors, when he ran into Ron and Hermione. "Harry, what's wrong?" Ron looked worried and Hermione's face was pale, her eyes wide. "Did you see something?"

"Sirius," Sam said, thinking quickly. Having Ron and Hermione knowing where he was wasn't a bad idea, but he didn't want them in the line of fire. How to keep them out of it was the question. "I saw him being tortured; I have to rescue him! I need you two to…" Sam thought fast, "…I need the two of you to get in touch with the Order. If we have problems, we'll need backup."

Hermione shook her head and pulled Sam into a deserted classroom, where she closed the door. Ron stood in front of it and stood, arms crossed and face set. Sam wasn't sure he could get past him—not without some pretty serious martial arts. And it'd be fun trying to explain where Harry had learned those things. Trying to stay in character, and keeping everything straight, he said, "I don't have time for this!"

"You have enough time to tell us exactly what you saw and what you think you're going to do," Hermione said firmly. "What, exactly, did you see?"

Quickly, Sam described the vision. Ron's stance loosened; he said, "Isn't there anyone here you can tell?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Professor McGonagall was taken to St. Mungo's and Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore are both gone. There's no one here."

He wasn't surprised that neither Ron or Hermione mentioned Snape, but he was surprised when Hermione took a deep breath as if she were steeling herself to say something she was expecting Harry to get mad at. "Harry, are you sure that what you saw is real? They want you to learn Occlumency so you don't get these visions; maybe what you're seeing isn't real."

"What about my dad?" Ron asked, sounding angry.

"V- Voldemort didn't know Harry could see what he was doing, or what he and his snake were doing, then," Hermione said. "But he does now, and he could be sending you false information to try to trap you."

"How would he know it would work?" Sam asked, wondering why Harry hadn't listened to her the first time around.

"You . . . This isn't a criticism, Harry! But you do . . . sort of . . . I mean—don't you think you've got a bit of a—a—_saving-people-thing_?"

"Is she talking to you or to Harry?" Al asked, with a big grin. "She's absolutely right, by the way. According to the records we have, she tried this on Harry, but he wouldn't listen to her. Unfortunately, neither can you. How do we keep them here?"

"Maybe you're right," Sam said to Hermione, trying to block Al out. "And if you are, I'm going to need help. That's why I need you two to contact the Order; in case it is a trap."

"The hell with that!" Ron said. Sam looked over at him; it was a painful sight. Ron was only sixteen, but his stance and the set of his jaw was much older. Sam didn't think he'd be able to go without Ron unless he hurt the boy and he didn't want to do that.

"Ron, I . . ." Sam had a moment of inspiration. "Ron, I need you to look after Hermione. If it is a trap—" He never got to finish.

"Look after Hermione?" Hermione said, her expression furious. "I don't need to be looked after; you do! All right, if you're determined to do this, we're coming with you. Look after Hermione! Really!" She walked straight for the door, obviously having no intention of waiting for Ron to move.

Ron knew it, too; he moved away from the door quickly and pushed Sam out of the room to follow Hermione. "Mate," Ron said, "are you mental?"

"Sam," Al said, "I think you'd better tell them the truth. Nothing else will stop that one, especially now that you've made her mad." He pounded on the handlink. "They went with Harry the first time, anyway."

"OK," Sam said. "Hang on, you two. There's something else I have to tell you." He pulled them into a broom closet and closed the door. "Hermione, put a silencing spell on it, would you please?" When she had done that, her lips thin, Sam said, "I told Snape about the vision. He checked; Sirius is at headquarters."

"But, why . . ."

Before Hermione could get started, Sam continued, "The problem is that Voldemort gave Snape orders for what he should do if something like this happened. If I don't go, we could lose our spy and that could be really bad. So, I have to go, but there will be people from the Order there to help me out. If you two came along, it would just make their job harder. So, please . . ."

Ron shook his head. "No way, mate. You're not going into danger without us."

"Absolutely," Hermione said, but she was beaming. Sam didn't understand that until she said, "I'm so proud of you that you actually went to Snape. That was really mature of you."

Sam agreed with her, but he also agreed with Ron's rolled eyes; Hermione was a little young to pull off the motherly attitude. At least, for Sam; maybe it worked on Harry. "Right, so I need you to stay here. Please. I have to go."

"How are we going to get there?" Hermione asked.

Sam sighed; he didn't really have the time to convince them not to go along. He glanced over at Al who shrugged. "Snape suggested the thestrals."

"That's a good idea," Hermione said, nodding. "We need something to call them with."

"Hagrid used raw meat," Ron said. "We can get some from the house-elves." He headed out of the broom closet and down toward the basement.

"Sam, I'm going to headquarters to raise the alarm," Al said. "Try to stay out of trouble until I get back."

Sam planned on waiting outside the kitchen, worried that the house-elves would see him as himself, but the other two just pulled him in. A few of the strange creatures gave him a funny look, but none of them said anything. They gave them half a dozen bloody pieces of meat; Hermione assured him that that would be enough to summon the thestrals.

As they were walking out of the castle they ran into Neville and two younger girls, Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister and another one Sam didn't know. Neville said, "I saw the way you left the History of Magic OWL; I thought something might be wrong. What can I do to help?"

Sam exchanged a look with Ron and Hermione. It was bad enough he couldn't leave those two behind; he had no intention of bringing anyone else along. "It's nothing, really," he said. "We're just going to take a walk, clear our heads, you know. I just fell asleep; it was no big deal."

Ginny gave Sam a hard look. "As if we'd believe that. And why do you need raw meat to take a walk? Where are you going?"

Hermione motioned to the other three to follow them outside. When Sam tried to object, she said, in a fussy voice, "We can use all the help we can get." She proceeded to tell the other three what was going on as they walked toward the Forest. She left out Black's name, and anything about the Order, but she did make it clear that what they were doing was dangerous.

To Sam's dismay, they insisted on coming along. Before he could come up with a way of keeping them at the school, Ron spoke up. "There's Malfoy. I'll bet he's going to Umbridge to get us into trouble. If she stops us—"

"Please, help us out," Sam said. Fortunately for his nerves, that worked. When they headed back towards the castle, he turned to Ron, "We're going to have to make sure they don't get into any serious trouble over this."

They'd reached the Forest by this time. Ron led them to a clearing, where he said, "This is where Hagrid showed them to us. You're going to have to tell us when they get here; you're the only one of us that can see them."

"They're here," Sam said, watching the creatures walk towards them. They were chilling creatures: skeletal looking, with dead-looking white eyes and leathery wings. "All right, let's get on them." He swung up onto one of the thestral's backs and looked down. Ron and Hermione both looked unnerved but determined; however, they weren't moving.

"Harry, how are we supposed to get on them?" Hermione asked.

Sam closed his eyes. Only those who had seen death could see thestrals. It seemed that Harry could, but Ron or Hermione couldn't. Sam sighed and swung back down to the ground. He helped both Ron and Hermione mount two of the thestrals and then remounted his own. Not knowing how to ride a flying horse, he said to his, "Can you help us get to the Ministry of Magic?" His thestral jumped into the air, followed by Ron and Hermione. Sam could hear Ron and Hermione moaning behind him, but they kept up.

It was a long, cold trip. After some time in the air, Sam heard Al's voice behind him. "Wow! Those are the ugliest horses I've ever seen. Bet that's a kick in your pants; are you enjoying it?"

Sam glared at Al and said, "It's cold."

"Oh." Al shrugged. "Why are those two so scared-looking? Ron, at least, flies a broomstick on a regular basis; riding a skeleton horse shouldn't be that much worse."

Sam sighed and said, speaking as quietly as he could, "Al, they can't see the thestrals. Neither of them has seen death. Think how it would feel to be this far up in the air and not be able to see what's holding you up."

Al grimaced. "Oh. Yeah, that'd be a bit nerve-wracking." He was quiet for a moment, then pulled his unlit cigar back out of his mouth. "The Order is at the Ministry. I've been able to scout things out; we know where the Death Eaters are, but we can't move until they do. All you have to do is get there and they'll come after you." The handlink beeped and Al scowled. "That could be a problem. According to this, they're waiting for you to take a sphere that has a prophecy."

"So? It's right where I saw Sirius, right?"

"Yeah, but anyone touching it but the people it's about go crazy." Al looked up at Sam. "Not really something you want to do."

Sam thought as he watched the English countryside below him. "If this sphere breaks, they'll have to give up on it, right?"

Al nodded, "Yeah, and I see where you're going with this. Let me check, but that should work. Be back."

They were over London, and beginning to move toward the ground when Al reappeared. "That's the way we're going to work it. You're going straight for that sphere, no detours, because that's one of the things that went wrong in the original history, and break it. Since they can't get their prophecy, they'll go for you as a consolation prize. As soon as they make a play for you, the Order moves in and we're done. Piece of cake!" Al shoved his cigar back in his mouth and grinned at Sam. Sam didn't believe it.

The entrance to the Ministry of Magic turned out to be in a phone booth. The three of them had crowded into it, closed the door and Ron dialed a number on the telephone. A cool female voice said, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

Sam said, "Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley. We're here to rescue Sirius Black. Please let us in."

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Three badges fell into the coin return. Sam looked at his.

HARRY POTTER 

**RESCUE MISSION**

Sam rolled his eyes; leave it to a phone booth to take him literally. The voice spoke again, "Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium." The floor shuddered and the booth sank through the pavement.

As they left the booth, Sam felt an almost uncontrollable urge to laugh. If he'd been able to talk to Al without Ron and Hermione there, he would have made a comment about feeling like _Get Smart_. Had these two ever seen _Get Smart_?

Walking as quickly as they could, they came to an elevator. Ron went to open it, but Sam stopped him. "There may be guards keeping an eye on the elevators; let's look for stairs."

"Elevators? Isn't that what Americans call lifts? Why are you calling them that?" Hermione's questions were machine-gun rapid; Sam could hear how scared she was.

Before he could answer, Ron said, "Worry about it later, yeah? And there's stairs this way." He gave Sam a curious look as he led the way.

The Department of Mysteries, where the prophecy spheres were kept, was on the ninth floor of the Ministry. It seemed to take forever to run down all those stairs, but they were finally at the door Sam had seen in the vision.

"Harry's been dreaming about this door for months," Al said, his voice subdued. "Even before Voldemort picked up on his eavesdropping. He must really want this prophecy. Be careful, Sam; if you break it, he's not going to be happy." Sam nodded as they went through the door.

They were standing in a large circular room. Everything in here was black including the floor and ceiling and there were twelve identical black doors with no handles all around the room. The only lighting came from branches of blue-burning candles. As they stood there, there was a great rumbling noise and the walls began to rotate.

Sam looked at the identical doors. He could no longer tell which one they had come through, let alone figure out where to go. He looked up at Al, who sighed and started pushing buttons on the handlink, then hitting it when he didn't get the answer. "Stall them, Sam. I'll look around."

"Where do we go then, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Give me a minute," Sam said. "It wasn't quite like this in my visions. There, I just . . ."

Al walked through one of the doors.

"It's that one," Sam said, pointing at it.

"Good thing it is," Al said as Sam opened the door and the three of them walked through.

The room was filled with beautiful, glittering lights. As Sam's eyes adjusted to the light, he realized that the room was filled with clocks of every kind and size. They all appeared to be running as well, judging from the ticking. The source of the lights was a crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room. "This way." Sam held a tight rein on his curiosity; he really wanted to know what was in the jar, but other things were more important. There was a door at the end of the room. Sam took a deep breath and walked through it.

This was it. The room had a very high ceiling and was filled with rows of towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. There were more candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves, shining dully off the orbs.

In the vision, he had been at shelf ninety-seven. Hermione pointed up at the end of the nearest shelf. Beneath a branch of candles was a glimmering FIFTY-THREE. She squinted toward the right. "Yes, this is the way we need to go," she said. "It says fifty-four."

They walked slowly down the aisle, wands out, ready for anything. Sam glanced up at the orbs; each one had a tiny, yellowing label stuck beneath it. Some of the orbs had a weird, liquid glow while others were as dull and dark as used light bulbs. The room was deathly silent. Sam kept swallowing, his stomach knotted with nerves.

"Ninety-seven!" Hermione whispered.

They stood at the end of the row, looking down it. There was no one there. Sam swallowed and said, "He's right at the end. We probably can't see him from here." They reached the end of the row but nobody was there. Sam reminded himself that Black was still at headquarters. Unless he was here, waiting for the trap to be sprung. Sam hoped the Order was here, but he couldn't ask now. Al was standing next to him, but not saying anything; Sam wasn't entirely certain why.

"Harry? I don't think Sirius is here," said Hermione. Sam looked at her, startled, wondering if she'd forgotten that this trip was all a trap. Her expression said that she was playing along, in case any of the Death Eaters could hear them.

Sam was still trying to figure out how to get the Death Eaters to attack them. We walked down the aisle of shelves, looking around desperately.

"Harry?" Ron called.

Sam looked up. "What?"

"Have you seen this?" Ron asked.

Sam walked back to where Ron was staring at one of the dusty spheres.

"It's—it's got your name on," Ron said.

Sam looked, finding he had to crane his neck a bit. He was taller than Harry, so it wasn't as much of a stretch as Harry would have had, but Ron was still taller than him. Sure enough, on the label underneath one of the orbs was a date about sixteen years ago and below that:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

Dark Lord

and (?) Harry Potter

As Sam stared at it, Ron was looking at the other labels. "What's your name doing down here? I'm not here, neither is Hermione, or anyone else I know, I don't think."

Sam found himself almost compelled to pick it up. As he started to reach for it, Hermione said, "Harry, I don't think you should touch it," as Al said, "Don't touch it!" Sam pulled back.

Sam stared up at the little sphere. Such a little, innocuous-looking thing to cause so much trouble. He looked at Ron and Hermione and said, "What I'm about to do will seem crazy. Trust me; I do know what I'm doing." In a burst of inspiration, he said, "Someone suggested this plan." He tried to indicate his nose, hoping the other two would realize he meant Snape. The man truly did have a remarkable nose. He reached up and let his sleeve brush against the sphere and knock it over.

It fell to the floor and broke. A misty figure, looking almost as misty as the real Divination teacher, rose up from the shards. Sam moved his arm roughly through the mist; allowing the Death Eaters to see the prophecy would not be a good idea. As he disrupted the recording, he heard someone behind him drawl, "I shouldn't be surprised that you would come barreling in and ruin a well-designed plan. Well, we'll just have to deliver you to the Dark Lord without it. His temper should be . . . interesting."

Sam turned and found himself looking at a man in a black robe with slits for eyes in the hood. His voice was cold. And he was obviously one of the Death Eaters.

Whirling around, he yelled, "Run!" at Ron and Hermione and took off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Al was at the other side of the room, waving his arm and pointing to where, presumably, the Order was waiting. "Hey, Lupin, get over here! There's six of them; these kids don't have a chance!"

Before Sam could get to the Order, he tripped over his robe. He moved to stand as quickly as he could. The blond man got to him before he could and kicked the wand out of Sam's hand and placed his boot on Sam's throat, a cold smile on his face. "Stay right where you are, Potter. My Lord should be here any minute."

Sam looked up at him, thinking that relying on any one kind of weapon could be dangerous. As one part of his brain was analyzing the adrenaline and testosterone rush, his body was executing a series of martial arts moves that the Death Eater was clearly not expecting. Sam swung his leg up, knocking the other man's wand out of his hand and across room. Before he could react, Sam had jumped up and punched him twice, once in the belly and once in his jaw. He grabbed for Harry's wand and held it on the older man. While he tried to remember the spell to knock somebody out, Hermione cast _Stupefy_.

Sam looked over his shoulder. "Thanks, Hermione." It wasn't until he'd turned around to look for more trouble that her expression registered; she'd looked stunned. He didn't have time to address, though, since the battle was now truly underway.

Sam wished he knew who was on which side; unfortunately, the different sides weren't labeled. The fight wasn't staying contained in the one room, either; people were beginning to leave the area to get away from pursuers. Ron was being protected by an older man with a peg leg and what appeared to be a false eye. Although his depth perception had to be bad, his aim appeared deadly. A large bald black man with an earring had thrust Hermione behind him and was moving toward the entrance. Both of them looked relieved rather than frightened; Sam decided he didn't need to worry about them.

He was trying to decide if he should leave, when Al came running towards him. "Sam, the moron's going to do it again. You have to save Black! This way!" He waved his arm and started walking deeper into the chamber.

Lupin looked up quickly when he heard Al and turned to Hermione and the black man. "Kingsley, you and Alastor get them out of here. I'll take Harry and get Sirius out." He took Sam by the arm and said, "Come on, Harry. We'll get Sirius and get to safety."

Once they were moving in the right direction, Al said, "In the original history, Black got involved in the fight as well, even though he wasn't supposed to. Stir crazy, I guess." Lupin nodded. "Anyway, he was dueling with a Bellatrix Lestrange, she hit him with something nonfatal and he fell through a curtain. Not sure how, but it killed him."

Lupin went white. "The Veil?" Swearing under his breath, he started running, paying no attention to Al.

Sam looked at Al. "Follow him, Sam. He's going in the right direction." Muttering to himself, he followed Lupin as well.

The room Black was dueling in looked like a lecture hall with rows and rows of seats. It was rectangular, with the middle of the room sunken and a raised dais in the middle. Instead of a blackboard or a podium, at the bottom was a ragged curtain. As Sam walked into the room, he could hear voices just behind it. "Who's there?"

"Sirius!" Lupin was shouting. "Be careful! Watch the Veil!"

Black wasn't paying much attention. He was grinning as he and a woman with a strong family resemblance were dueling, throwing different colored spells at each other. He threw one at her that she ducked. When she stood, Al was shouting about this being it, Lupin was throwing his own spells at her and Sam decided to try what had been working so far. He jumped down and knocked Bellatrix down. She pushed him off of her and smiled sweetly at Sam. "Is--?" she started to say before she broke off. "Who are you?" she asked. "You're not Potter?"

Black and Lupin were above them as Sam tried to disentangle himself from Bellatrix. This close, it was clear that she had once been beautiful, but insanity and a hard life had stolen her beauty just as years of prison had stolen Black's. Unable to get her off of him, Sam gave Lupin a pleading look. He seemed to understand it; a moment later, he had cast _Stupefy_ on them both.

When Sam opened his eyes, he was looking up at Black, who was shaking his head. "Thanks, Beckett, I owe you one." He held out a hand to help Sam up. "Go see what we can do for the others?"

Lupin nodded. He'd been casting rope spells on Bellatrix; she looked like a rather odd mummy at the moment. "Beckett, you might want to try to get out of here—"

Sam didn't hear the rest of the suggestion as his head felt like it exploded. For a moment, his world was nothing but excruciating pain. After a moment, the pain eased enough that Sam could see. Lupin and Black both looked pale and Al was hitting his handlink. "Al, what does Ziggy say?" Sam asked.

"He's here," Al snarled. "That Voldemort character. In the lobby."

"You shouldn't go anywhere near that room," Lupin said as Al nodded.

"No," Sam said. "I have to do this." He looked at Al, hoping his friend would understand.

Although he clearly didn't like it, Al sighed and pointed. "That way. Be careful!"

With Lupin and Black on his heels, Sam followed Al's directions. Although the rest of the Death Eaters appeared to be captured or have escaped, there was clearly still a battle in the lobby. Sam poked his head around the doorway, hoping not to get caught in the line of fire.

Headmaster Dumbledore had appeared, the one time Sam had met him, to be a kindly, grandfatherly type. Eccentric, interested in everything, but obviously advanced in years; Sam thought he might be nearing the century mark. Certainly the last person you would want in a battle.

The last thing Sam would have expected to see was that kindly, elderly gentleman casting what were clearly powerful spells with calm fury. He didn't seem to be trying to kill his opponent, but Sam thought that, if he'd wanted to, he could have done so easily. The amount of power radiating off the wizard was chilling.

Sam wasn't entirely sure that his opponent was human. He was tall and thin, inhumanly pale, with red eyes and slits instead of a nose. The overall effect was rather snake-like. Voldemort looked at Sam and smiled, a cold smile that made Sam shudder, and cast a shield around himself. As he looked at Sam, the pain in Sam's head grew to an almost unbearable amount. He could hear Voldemort taunting Dumbledore, something about how he'd have to kill Harry in order to kill him now. Sam tried to look at Dumbledore, to make him understand that, if by killing Sam he could stop Voldemort, it was OK. Sam wasn't fifteen, he'd had a good life and had done some good, both before and after Project Quantum Leap. He didn't much want to die, but there were things that were so much worse. Holding onto the memories of his family, of Al, of all the people he'd Leaped into over the years, he looked straight at Voldemort and, with his last bit of energy, grinned and said, "Sure you want to do that?"

Sam could hear Al yelling at him, but then he heard Voldemort snarl and the worst of the pain ended. As he collapsed, he watched Voldemort vanish with a clap of sound. As he did so, a number of people begin to pour out of the fireplaces around the room. Hoping the fighting was over, Sam allowed himself to faint.

He didn't think he'd been out that long when he opened his eyes. Most of the pain was gone and he found himself looking up at Black and Lupin, with Al moving in and out of them. All three men looked worried. "Sam, are you all right?" Al took a deep breath and checked his handlink. "Don't know why you haven't Leaped yet. Harry's still alive, so's Black, Voldemort's gone. What else do you have to do?"

Before anyone could say anything, Dumbledore walked over. "And how are you feeling, my boy?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "I'll be all right once I get rid of this headache."

"Of course." Dumbledore smiled at him and turned to a man who'd followed him, saying something about all the rules that had been broken. "Cornelius, I will explain everything that I can once Harry is back at the school. I think I'll send Sirius back with him. You do know he's Harry's godfather, don't you?" Cornelius's eyes were huge and he was sputtering something. Dumbledore ignored him and picked up a piece of debris from the floor. He tapped it and said, "_Portus!_" "Take this, both of you."

Before they could, Al said, "Lupin, too."

Lupin looked up at Al and nodded, saying, "Albus, I think I'd better go along and help out at the school."

Dumbledore nodded and the three of them took the debris. Sam once again felt that awful hook behind his navel; a moment later, he was standing in an office.

"If you're wondering," Lupin said, "this is Albus's office. I think we should stay put until he gets back. Unless you have another idea?" he asked Al.

Al nodded. "Get Snape up here. And cast that spell that'll let him and Black see me."

Sam couldn't quite tell what Lupin's expression was; it looked like a mixture of confusion and understanding. He cast a spell that sent a silvery something out of his wand that flew out the window.

"Why do we need Snivellus up here, anyway?" Black asked, sneering. "He's no help."

Al didn't say anything, but opened the Imaging Chamber door. "I'll be back in a minute. Be good."

Sam sat down in a comfortable chair in front of the desk and leaned his head back. He was happily dozing when the door opened. "What is going on?" Snape sounded angry. "Oh. Potter or Beckett?"

Sam grinned and looked up at Snape. "Beckett."

"Good. And the answer to my question?"

"And why should we tell you anything?" Black asked with a nasty grin. "After all, Snivellus . . ."

As Lupin said, "Sirius, please, at least try to stay civil," Snape pulled out his wand and leveled it at Black.

Black pulled his own wand out with a feral grin. "Sounds like a great idea."

Before Sam or Lupin could try to separate the two men, Sam heard the Imaging Chamber door open again. "Lupin, now!" snapped Al. Lupin cast the spell, probably before he'd even thought about it. When Sam looked over at him, Al had brought Harry into the Imaging Chamber again.

"Sit down and shut up, both of you!" Al ordered. Although he wasn't in uniform, his voice held all of his years as a Naval officer. Both men obeyed before they thought about it. It only lasted a moment before they were back on their feet, yelling at each other and Al.

Sam looked over at Lupin, who had a rather bemused look on his face. Then he slowly grinned as he sat down in his own chair, leaned back, crossed his legs and looked as if he were about to observe the best entertainment in the world.

Harry, on the other hand, was alternately glaring at Al and Snape. He didn't really look happy with his godfather either, but it was clear where his loyalty lay.

Al let the yelling go on for a moment. As he drew in a breath for another bellow, Dumbledore arrived in the office with another piece of debris in his hand. He looked around at the moment and smiled. Sitting in the chair behind his desk, he looked up at Al and, eyes twinkling, said, "Please, go right ahead."

Al nodded and turned to the others. "If you want to hand the war to Voldemort, go right ahead. I'll wash my hands of all of you. If you want to win the war, STOP FIGHTING EACH OTHER! You're spending so much time fighting with each other that you don't have time to fight the war!"

Al pointed a finger at Black. "You! Grow up! You don't have to like your allies, but you know damn good and well that you can't win this war without good intelligence. It may not have crossed your mind, but getting that intelligence is dangerous. If you hold courage that high as a virtue, you should be sitting at the feet of the master, and if you haven't figured it out, Severus Snape has more guts in his pinky than most have ever thought about!" Black had gone pale, and looked rather sulky, but he nodded.

Rounding on a very smug Snape, Al snapped, "And you! Twelve years in prison is plenty of punishment for a stupid murderous prank! Hate him, but work with him! There's nobody better at coming up with ways to throw monkey wrenches into plans; use it! There's no guarantee you'll get out of this war if you don't use some of that brain of yours. And Harry is not his father, and you have to teach him, not just attack him over and over again! I got a description of that excuse for Occlumency lessons; he needs them, so teach him!" Snape was now pale and scowling; Sam couldn't tell if Al's lecture was making a difference.

Al now spun Harry around and, lowering the volume of his voice a little, said, "And you need to start trusting the adults around you. These guys aren't those nozzles you call relatives; start asking for help! If they're giving you extra lessons, pay attention. And if no one will tell you what you need to know, be a pain in the ass until they do. I'll bet one of these guys knows that prophecy, or knows who does; find out what it said. Do what you gotta do so you can start having fun and making girls' dads nuts."

He turned to Dumbledore and snapped, "If you want Harry here to work with you, start treating him as an intelligent person. Letting him be a kid is fine, but you have to tell him what he needs to know up front, instead of after the fact."

Al took a deep breath and looked around the room. Sam watched him take satisfaction in all the stunned faces around him. He'd been subjected to several patented Al Calavicci dressing-downs; this one was comparatively mild.

After several moments of silence, Harry looked over at Sam. "What about the two of you?" he asked. "Do you ever ask anyone for help?" He looked back at Al. "You're always going on about how no one succeeds on their own; do you listen to your own advice?"

Al smirked. "Why do you think Sam has an Observer?"

Sam nodded. "There's been more than once that he's the only reason I've been able to succeed. Or even to continue. It's also why I created Ziggy."

Before he could continue on that line, Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh. Is that why she has so much, erm, personality?"

The others laughed, except for Snape, who did smirk. Before anyone could say anything else, Sam could feel himself Leaping again. He wished he'd been able to ask Al what happened to everyone; there was a pretty good chance that he wouldn't remember when he landed next. The last sight he saw was Black saying, "Thank you."

Epilogue 

The next morning, Al walked into the Project. While they waited for Sam, he had a report on this Leap to write out, three personnel issues to straighten out and a missing load of materials to find. He smiled; he'd had Ziggy give him everything she had on Harry and what had happened to him since Sam had Leaped into him. He was having a good life—still a young man, with a wife and child and a profession that Al bet he was terrific at. Sam had saved a lot of lives on this Leap. Al didn't add up the numbers any more; Sam was doing what he was meant to do. Still, it would be nice to have his best friend back home, where they could just go and hang out for a while.

Before he could get to the elevators that would take him to his office, Gooshie stopped him. "Admiral Calavicci, you have some guests in your office. They're rather . . . strange." 

"What, like New Age strange?" Al asked, wondering what aspect of the Project was triggering the nuts this time.

"No." Gooshie didn't say anything for a minute, obviously trying to put the feeling into words. He finally shrugged. "Just strange."

Al rolled his eyes and hoped they wouldn't take up too much of his day. He walked into his office, which was filled to capacity. It took him a moment to make sense of the crowd in his office, but it finally clicked when he saw the young man who was obviously in charge. Several inches taller than he'd been just yesterday, but he still had that messy black hair and round glasses. When he was sure that Al knew who he was, Harry grinned. "Hi, Al. We're here to see if we can't help you bring Sam back home."

fin


End file.
